


A change of heart.

by Satine86



Series: Adaar Family Adventures [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2729609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Children were messy and loud and not something Dorian had ever given much thought to. Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A change of heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a problem. Again with Ismat Adaar who belongs to lauranis on tumblr.

Despite the joy of victory, the sense of relief that came with it, there were still many horrors to face. One of the worst things was patrolling the refugee camps, seeing the faces of so many orphaned children. They had been through so much for ones so young.

It continually broke Ismat’s heart to see their forlorn faces, and he did the best he could to ease their pain. He brought blankets and toys, treats from Val Royeaux. He worked with his advisers to find the children new homes, families that would care for him. Sometimes he even brought them back to Skyhold, changing the infirmary into a makeshift orphanage.

Still he felt it wasn’t enough, Dorian knew that. He saw the burden he bore, the weight of it making his proud shoulders droop, and causing bags to stand out prominently under his eyes. Dorian worried about his state of mind, but he wasn’t sure what he could do to ease it. So he tagged along when Ismat visited the children, entertained them as best he could.

Dorian had never been around children, and he found them all rather messy and inconvenient, if he were being completely honest. Though he kept his opinion to himself, no need to upset Ismat further.

He was feeling particularly lost one day when the children were especially rowdy, and there was no one else to help calm them. No Iron Bull to wrestle with them, playing the fearsome dragon. No Varric or Leliana to tell stories. Just Dorian and Ismat trying console the little ones.

Dorian had a headache that was slowly eating away at him. One more shout and he was quite sure his head would explode. He looked at Ismat, who was rocking a babe in his arms. It was almost comical to see his large frame hunched over such a tiny thing. Dorian was no expert in such things, but he guessed the child be close to a year. Depressing to think it was all alone.

Some of the older boys were peppering Ismat with requests to play knights, and he sighed, torn between entertaining them and dealing with the fussing baby in his arms. Glancing up he met Dorian’s eyes.

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Just hold her, it will be alright.” Without another word Ismat passed the bundle into Dorian’s reluctant arms and turned to play with the other children.

He looked down at her; chubby cheeks were red from her wailing, eyes scrunched, and a terrible goo was dribbling down from her nose. How awful. Dorian sighed, looked at Ismat across the room, and then back down at the baby. There was a small cloth tucked into her blanket, and he used it to wipe her nose.

She was actually starting to calm, had the second she’d been placed in his arms and he found that curious. After a few moments she blinked open her eyes, they were large and brown and were framed with the longest lashes he had ever seen. He knew people who would kill for lashes like that.

“Hm, hello there,” he mumbled to the babe. She gurgled in reply.

He wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed until one of the healers helping take care of the children took her from him, all he knew was that she had been quiet in his arms but started howling again the moment the woman took her. Strange, he thought as Ismat led him toward the main keep for the night.

When Ismat returned the following day, Dorian came along as well. For support, he told himself. He found another healer rocking the same fussing baby from the day before. There were bags under the young Dalish’s eyes as he tried to soothe the child.

Ismat asked after the baby and the elf shrugged, “She’s been crying non-stop. Can’t really blame her, I’m sure she’s been through a lot. I just wish I could calm her.”

“Ahem,” Dorian cleared his throat, earning a surprised look from Ismat. “Allow me?” He held out his hands. Without further prompting the elf placed the baby in Dorian’s arms, and she calmed almost immediately, resorting to happy coos and gurgles.

“She likes you,” Ismat commented, a smile spreading across his face.

“Well she has impeccable taste then,” he replied dryly, placing the baby on his shoulder and bouncing her gently, as he had seen others do before.

“I thought you were scared of babies?” Ismat crossed his arms, brow quirked.

“They’re not demons, amatus, I was never scared. Besides, this one isn’t so bad.” He pulled the bundle away, holding the baby up to look at her face. She babbled and smiled, and Dorian found himself returning it.

He tried to ignore Ismat’s downright smug grin. Really, you would’ve thought it had all been his idea. Ridiculous man.

The baby lifted her chubby little arms and started flapping them happily, legs kicking as she squirmed. Dorian had a moment of panic where he thought he might drop her, but then she lunged forward, tiny fingers prodding his nose and then latching onto the end of his mustache.

“I think she’s claimed you,” Ismat said with barely contained amusement.

“Like I said, she has impeccable taste.” With gentle fingers he untangled hers from his mustache and instead tucked her under his chin, her breath tickling his neck. “I suppose we’ll just have to keep her.”

“Keep her? She’s not a mabari pup, Dorian.”

“I know that. She’s an orphan and she needs a place that’s her own.”

“A family?” Ismat stepped a bit closer to Dorian’s side, voice soft.

“Yes.” Dorian tried to keep his tone light, but he couldn’t help the flutter of emotion inside his chest, or his growing fondness for the child from softening his features. “She needs a home and a family and I think we should provide her one.”

“I think I like the sound of that.” Ismat smiled and stooped down to look at the baby’s face, offering her his pinky finger to grasp.


End file.
